Passion
by AvatarTwilightObsession
Summary: Redone - There was a slight taste in the air – it was leftover emotions, fluttering around their heads like tiny butterflies, words and sounds and movements laid out across the ground for everyone to see. My take on Kataang Week's Passion. Enjoy :D


**Er...this is the product of it being very late at night, me having a life-changing sort of day in the emotional sense, wanting to get something down on paper, writing being my therapy...and Kataang Week giving me the perfect prompt.**

Everyone knew about it when Sokka and Suki had made love for the first time. It wasn't so much that Aang or Katara, Zuko or Toph walked in on them, or heard anything...it was more like the atmosphere had changed. There was a slight taste in the air – it was leftover emotions, fluttering around their heads like tiny butterflies, words and sounds and movements laid out across the ground for everyone to see. It was like the aftermath of a volcano: ashy memories were dusted across the small campsite, whilst dark clouds hung low over them, fat and saturated with a heady scent of unshed rain and something else that no one could identify.

It was passion that lingered in the air; that filled the skies around them, charging the low clouds with electricity, so that every member of their small campsite was surrounded by it as the invisible bolts of lightning struck through them, making their bodies crackle and tingle – they had been woken, early in the dying hours of the night by it, and no one had escaped.

Whilst Suki and Sokka lay sleeping, Toph was hidden away, out of sight under a mound of rocky earth as she had been for hours. Zuko was lying flat out on the ground, his golden eyes trained on the murky grey woollen blanket of a sky, the dying moon and rising sun suffocated by its thick layers – his arms and legs were spread-eagled, so he shaped a X; he hadn't moved for at least forty minutes, his chest gently rising up and down, as slowly and regularly as if he were asleep. Aang and Katara were illuminated by the soft glow of the dying embers, sitting across from each other, painfully aware that the other was there.

She was finding it rather hard to breathe.

Katara's chest was tight as she sat by the fire, her arms wrapped around her legs, her rod-straight back purposefully turned towards Sokka's tent – she was doing her best to ignore the guilty edifice, whilst all the while she could feel it staring at her, calling her to turn around and breathe in the humidity that was hanging in the air around her, to let the wafting eddies of fading emotions take her over until she trembled – her stomach was a tight knot, her tense fingers pinching holes in the skin of her palms.

She didn't want to let the feelings that were drifting around take her, but she couldn't seem to get them out of her head. What Sokka and Suki had done...it was breathtaking and immense yet terrible at the same time – they frightened the hell out of her, the emotions that were leaking out of the tent flap like a heady soup, thick and sticky. She was frightened of what they were making her want to do.

She had no idea what was happening to her. She had no idea why she was affected in this way: why she felt taut and alert, her whole body tensed, her stomach wound into complicated loops, so tight that it was almost painful. Her shoulders were hunched as if battling a coming onslaught, even though there was nothing but that lingering passion behind her, lightly knocking against her back, constantly reminding her of its presence. Her breathing was irregular and unsteady, and she took short, heavy gasps, the air passing her lips absurdly loudly.

Her senses had been heightened – she could see everything crystal clear; the world was glittering as it always did in the very early morning, when the land was softened and brightened by dew, and she could smell it too, as if she were lying right against the ground. She could smell air, and burning wood, and something else which she knew wasn't air or embers, but belonged to that being that was pressing against her back.

She couldn't take control of herself, no matter how hard she tried: it was as if her body had acquired a mind of its own. There was a cold lump in her throat, and she could not stop shivering. She gulped down another breath, trying to swallow it, but it only rose up further, erupting out of her throat as a misshapen, "Gah!"

"Katara?" Aang spoke up then, lifting his head from his intense scrutinising of the dusty ground, his voice suddenly making her tremble inside, "Are you alright?"

She swallowed again, taking in another deep breath, finding she could hardly answer him, "I'm...I'm..." Again the words caught in her throat, choking her, forcing her to take another shuddering breath which hitched and snagged as she gulped in air. She couldn't speak, and she desperately tried again to move, to get away. Abruptly she surprised herself as she made one last great effort to lift herself upwards, forcing her off the ground; she was propelled towards the recesses of the campsite. Gravitating somewhere else, even as that being called her back; she stumbled away, "I need to get out of here...I need to walk."

"I'll come with you."

The feeling didn't go away as Aang approached her, falling into her agitated quick-step next to her – she couldn't look at him as the something grew stronger; she was strangely aware of his warmth; it seemed to radiate from him...the knots in her stomach twisted harder, and she hissed in pain.

"Katara?" Aang spoke out nervously against the silence – it seemed to snap back at him as Katara didn't answer, the awkward quiet furious at him for disturbing its entertainment.

She carried on walking, still unable to breathe, his warm presence behind her mixing with the passion that was still leaking out of the shivering clouds to make a deadly perfume that shocked her nerves and left them burning, that filled her head and made her feel dizzy – all she wanted was to throw herself on Aang, and she whimpered again as her heart clenched in defiance as she refused to turn around.

She felt out of control – as if a higher being were dictating her every move, telling her what to think and feel and want and do...the crackling electricity was taking her over, and she was beginning to tingle relentlessly as Aang called her name again. She couldn't handle it...she couldn't control herself – her body was not hers anymore.

"Katara?" Aang finally lunged forward and caught her arm, holding her still – Katara felt a sort of shock run through her at the contact, "Katara, please - what's wrong?"

Surprising herself again and without answering, she finally turned to him, their eyes locking, then suddenly she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, pressing her face into his shoulder and her body as close to his as possible. An impulse had taken her, and she found afterwards that she needed the contact. She needed to feel the weight of him against her, his warmth mixed with hers, his movements matching hers; she needed to share the tight and twisted and horrible feelings of mutated joy inside her, for what reason she didn't know; she needed someone to bear them with her. This felt like the perfect remedy.

Aang, without hesitation, wrapped his arms around her and tightened them until they were pressed close together, his face in her hair, breathing hard and unevenly, just as she was – it was a strange comfort, having her there. He found he could breathe again; the tighter he held her, the more stable he felt – less like he was going to suddenly fly away because his feet couldn't properly touch the ground; she stabilised him, like a weight on the end of a balloon string, anchoring it to the ground.

Everything began to spin out of control, reaching a climax, and Katara held onto Aang tighter against the raging tide, her breathing hitching, gagging her, as butterflies beat against her insides, tearing her to shreds. He tightened his arms about her and pressed his face into her hair, breathing her in, keeping himself down on the earth even as the clouds called to him – she was his rock.

They stood there together for what could have been seconds or years, an eternity or a moment, tightly hanging on to one another until – it was as if someone had suddenly switched on a vacuum – it was all suddenly sucked away, leaving them breathless and dizzy, two children clutching together amidst a fading storm – Aang let out a shaky breath before he whispered: "What...?"

Katara didn't answer, just pressed her face into his shoulder and shivered in the cold and crisp morning air.

They both knew, and at the same time they didn't. It was heavy and it was thrilling and it had taken them both over completely until they could hardly breathe...until all they could do was hold onto each other and share in it, bear the burden together until they could find release.

_Passion_.

**I couldn't tell you where this came from...I was kind of trying to go for the feeling of sexual tension that you can get when you're with a couple who you know are sleeping together and are both like...being couple-y, and you can tell they're thinking about it. That kind of...leakage, that makes you all agitated. I don't know – make what you like of it, but I've experienced something a little like this recently and it's pretty unnerving. Haha, I sound like some kind of weirdo who sits with couples and draws off their attraction to each other...I don't, but I thought that passion does tend to...spill into other people, since it's such a huge emotion, and this might be a way of explaining that. Oh god, I've got it now...stupid overflower of a story.**

**DISCLAIMER - I own nothing. I might even pretend I don't own this because it's so WEIRD.  
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**Damn those plot bunnies also.**

**I hope you didn't think it was too weird :D Please review, because I want to know what you thought of it...I'm not too sure at the moment.  
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**ATO xxxx**


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